Genius
by Darcy Brandon
Summary: A killer case sends Bobby and Alex crosscountry to San Francisco…and into the path of Adrian Monk who is investigating a similar case. Is the world ready for Bobby and Monk in one city? Quirkiness abounds! Monk Crossover. DramaHumor
1. Razzle Dazzle

**_A/N: As always, the characters in this story are not mine. Criminal Intent characters are the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. Monk characters are property of USA Networks. Also, all lyrics to the musical "Chicago" are property of John Kander, Fred Ebb and Bob Fosse. Please read and review! Thanks!_**

**Chapter 1: Razzle-Dazzle**

_In New York City's war on crime, the worst criminal offenders are pursued by the detectives of the Major Case Squad. These are their stories._

The jazz music swelled to a crescendo and the chorus girls sang their hearts out, each wanting to make their mark, however small, on the Broadway stage. Behind the stage, in the dark "on deck" area, Diana Vale got prepared to go on for her number when someone grabbed her by the arm.

"Hey, watch it," she said, "I've got to go on in a couple minutes."

"Just a moment of your time," the person said, yanking her to the side. There was a brief struggle, and Diana wasn't sure what was going on. A moment later, she was nearly flung onto the stage for her number as Velma Kelly, the lead in _Chicago. _

A bit unsteadily, she began to sing.

"_Come on babe, why don't we paint the town, and all that ja--jaaa"_

Before she could completely get over the word "jazz" she fell over her heels, and collapsed onto the stage floor.

The dancers looked nervously at each other. When they realized she wasn't getting back up, someone danced their way over to her. Fake smile on her face, the dancer whispered urgently to the stage manager, "Someone get a doctor…_now."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Cause of death?" Detective Bobby Goren bent down to the level of the Medical Examiner, who was inspecting the body of Diana Vale, which was still sprawled on the stage floor.

"At first glance it appears to be just an accident," Dr. Elizabeth Rodgers said. "A brain aneurysm or a heart attack maybe…but then I saw her arm…look at this." Rodgers turned over the woman's right arm to reveal bruising and needle marks.

"She was an actress and a junkie?" Detective Alex Eames pushed a strand of hair behind one ear and kneeled down as well.

"Again, on first glance, maybe," Rodgers said. "But her eyes and fingernails showed no signs of drug use …look at these marks. From the looks of it, whoever shot her up had a hard time finding a vein. And the bruising is post-mortem. She was shot up the arm right before she died."

"What was she shot up with then?" Alex frowned.

"Air is my guess," Rodgers said. "Air bubble went straight to her heart in a matter of moments…Though I still have some tests to run, I feel pretty safe in telling you that someone killed Diana Vale."

"It was premeditated," Bobby said, getting up and walking the length of the stage as he spoke, hands behind his back. "Someone wanted her death to be very public…"

"What's going on?" The stage manager came rushing toward them from the auditorium part of the theatre. He climbed on the stage. "They wouldn't let us back in here. Is Diana okay?"

"And you are?" Alex asked.

"Ted Lucerne," the man said. "I'm the stage manager…Is Diana okay?"

"Diana Vale is dead," Alex informed him. "Are the cast and crew still here?"

"No…no they all left after the police wouldn't let us back here."

"Great…so now we have over a hundred potential murder suspects on the loose," Rodgers said, rising.

"What—murder?" Ted Lucerne was confused.

"Mr. Lucerne, when is the best time to come pay a visit and ask the cast and crew some questions?" Alex asked.

"We have rehearsals tomorrow afternoon…if even one of them is missing, I'll know it."

"We'll see you then," Bobby said.

XXX

"_Give 'em the old razzle-dazzle. Razzle-dazzle 'em. Give 'em an act that's unassailable…"_

Bobby and Alex walked into the theatre the next afternoon, met by the sounds of rehearsals already in progress. Ted Lucerne spotted them and made his way over as they walked down an aisle, getting closer to the stage.

"Detectives," Ted said. "Everyone is present and accounted for. All the stars, their understudies, crew members…"

"They seem like a lively bunch for just having lost a key member of their corps," Alex noted.

"They're actors," Ted said, "Some of them have waited years to be on Broadway. They might have sprained ankles but they'll dance away, smile on their face. They may be grieving, but you'll never know it from watching them sing. As they say, the show must go on…"

"With a new Velma Kelly," Bobby said. "Who…who was Diana Vale's understudy?"

"Lucy Shepard," Ted said. "She feels terrible…she finally gets her chance on the Big White Way because of the death of another actress…quite unfortunate."

"But a motive for murder," Eames said.

"You don't think…"

"Right now, Mr. Lucerne, everyone's a suspect," Alex said. "And we'll need to talk to as many people as possible."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Do you know if she…had a boyfriend? Seeing someone…in the cast, for instance?" Bobby asked the woman playing Mama Morton. "Everyone's told us that you and her…were pretty good friends."

"Look…" The woman, Tina Thurman, sighed. "Diana was my friend…but she wasn't the type to go out with actors…she was…stuck up in that way. She dated businessmen…rich guys who would come to the plays, see her, and buy her drinks afterward."

"Know any of their names?" Alex asked.

"Nope. We didn't talk about our personal lives. Just theatre gossip. She could be vicious when it came to other actresses…even when I worked with her—and we were supposed to be friends—she could be a pain in the ass."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Goren and Eames spent the afternoon catching actors between numbers and crew people as they fiddled with lighting and moved props. They were no closer to pinpointing a surefire suspect but they had nailed down that though Diana Vale had been a superb actress, she'd also been difficult to work with.

"Terri, you don't sound too surprised that Diana was killed," Goren said, as they talked to their final witness, Terri Bell, the woman who played Roxie Hart.

"Not to speak ill of the dead, or to sound like the musical we're in, but…well…" Terri stopped.

"Let me guess," Eames said. "She had it coming?"

"You got it."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"We searched her house…didn't find a thing that says she's involved with someone, on or off the theatre circuit." Alex sighed, looking to Jim Deakins. "No one saw anyone who didn't belong back stage back there before she died."

It was much later that night, nearly midnight, and the detectives had spent all day interviewing theatre people, as well as Diana Vale's neighbors, to no avail.

"The only thing we know for sure is that she wasn't easy to work with," the captain said. "That gives us every actor and director she's ever worked with as suspects."

"It was sort of weird," Bobby said. "No one seemed upset…or even the least bit bothered. Terri Bell wasn't the only one who didn't seem surprised by Diana's death."

Deakins' phone rang just then. "If you'll both excuse me a second," he said.

Goren and Eames went back into the bullpen, looking over photos from the crime scene.

"Everyone was so quick to paint her as a bitch," Eames said. "A little too quick."

"Yeah…" Goren chewed on the end of his ink pen. "Something's not right..."

The words from the musical's rehearsal were still in Bobby's head.

"_How can they see with sequins in their eyes? _

_Razzle-dazzle 'em and they'll never catch wise!"_

"I don't know what it is…" he said. "But we'll find it soon enough."

"You're never gonna believe this," Deakins said, coming out of his office a few minutes later.

"What's that?" Alex asked.

"I just got a call from Leland Stottlemeyer, San Francisco PD. The star of the traveling tour of _Evita _was just killed…in the exact same way as Diana Vale."

"Copycat?" Bobby wondered. "It was all over the papers today."

"Or a potential serial killer," Deakins said. "Pack some clothes, guys. You're going to San Francisco."


	2. Genius Loves Company

**_A/N: Again, characters are not mine—L&O characters property of Dick Wolf and NBC; Monk characters property of USA Networks (which coincidentally are ALL owned by NBC Universal…anyway…) Thanks for all the reviews! Please continue to read and review. _**

**Chapter 2**

**Genius Loves Company**

_It's a jungle out there  
Disorder and confusion everywhere  
No one seems to care. Well I do.  
Hey, who's in charge here?  
It's a jungle out there_

Adrian Monk paced the length of the crime scene. Marsha Fleck, star of the national Broadway tour of _Evita,_ was still sprawled out on stage. As soon as the medical examiner had informed them of the probable cause of death, Captain Leland Stottlemeyer had called New York. They'd all seen the headlines that morning, and Stottlemeyer knew the cases had to be related. He returned about an hour later, a file folder in his hands.

"I just talked to the captain of the Major Case Squad in Manhattan," he told Monk and Lieutenant Randy Disher, who was at his side.

"What did he say, Captain?" Disher eagerly looked at Stottlemeyer.

"He said he'll send the lead detectives of their case on the next flight out here," Stottlemeyer said. "Also, I just got a copy of their case file…" He handed it to Monk.

Monk scanned the information in the file, frowning in thought.

"Are you sure it wasn't just a copycat case?" Disher asked the captain. Before Stottlemeyer could reply, Monk got a look on his face.

"Copycat…"

He turned and went back to his pacing, then abruptly stopped. He cocked his head to the side, and hunched up his shoulders a bit.

"Mr. Monk, what is it?" His assistant, Natalie Teeger, was by his side, and knew from the look on his face that he had thought of something important.

Monk went over to the body of the deceased actress and crouched down. He took a pencil and pointed to the earrings she was wearing. They were made of small diamonds in the shape of a horseshoe.

"Her earrings," he said. "Look at them."

Stottlemeyer and Disher knelt down.

"Diamonds are a girl's best friend…" The captain shrugged. "What about it?"

"Not just any diamonds," Monk said. "They've been advertising these earrings...Natalie what is that show that you make me watch?"

"Access Hollywood."

"Right…Nancy O'Dell says these earrings are all the rage. And very hard to get a hold of…Now look…" He opened up the Vale case file and took out the picture of the late Diana Vale. "She's wearing a pair just like them."

XXX

The next evening, after a long cross-country flight that had begun that morning, Goren and Eames landed in San Francisco. They were met at the airport by a very enthusiastic young man who was holding a sign that said, "NYPD Detectives. SFPD Welcomes You."

"Lieutenant Disher?" Alex asked the man.

Randy nodded, and stuck out his hand. "Randy Disher at your service."

"I'm Alex Eames," she said. "This is my partner, Bobby…" She grabbed Bobby, who was turned around, by the suit jacket and faced him forward. "Bobby Goren."

Bobby looked up. "Sorry…I was just…watching…the…baggage…conveyor belt…"

The men shook hands, small talk was made, and then they were off to the precinct to meet Stottlemeyer and Monk.

XXX

Adrian Monk sat at Randy Disher's desk, waiting for the lieutenant to arrive with the New York City detectives from the airport.

"You really think the other detectives are necessary?" he asked the captain.

Stottlemeyer snorted. "According to Captain Deakins, of the NYPD, Bobby Goren is one of the best on their squad, Monk. I don't think them being here will _hinder _us."

"I don't…think…outside help is necessary."

"Did I just hear Adrian Monk say that he's _not _in need of help?" a passing officer laughed.

Monk ignored him and continued to alphabetize Disher's case files. Natalie came in holding two cups of coffee. She handed one to Stottlemeyer, who was sitting nearby, and took a sip of the other one.

"Here they come." Stottlemeyer stood up.

Disher came their way with a tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered man and a petite blond woman in tow. Monk pretended to busy himself with the files as the captain introduced himself to Goren and Eames.

"Monk, get over here," Stottlemeyer called to him. There was no avoiding it any longer. Adrian got up and went to where they all stood, staring his way.

Stottlemeyer made the introduction.

"Adrian Monk, this is Detectives Bobby Goren and Alex Eames."

Bobby held out his hand. Monk eyed him warily, and then looked for Natalie.

"Natalie," he called, and she put down her coffee and ran to him. "Kleenex," he said.

Bobby, hand still outstretched, wondered to himself about this guy, and Alex raised a brow.

Natalie reached into her purse for a tissue and handed it to her boss. He took it, and then shook Bobby's hand, the tissue serving as a germ shield. Monk let out a sigh of relief, glad that it was over. Hand-shaking stressed him out. Then he realized that the woman, Eames, was waiting, a smile on her face, hand outstretched. If he wasn't so nervous, he would have noticed the playfulness in her eyes.

"Another Kleenex," he told Natalie, handing her the first one.

She nodded, and gave him another tissue.

"And who is this?" Bobby asked softly. "Another of San Francisco's finest?"

Natalie blushed at the mistake.

"'Fraid not," she said. "Natalie Teeger. I'm Mr. Monk's…assistant."

_She _shook both of their hands without incident.

"Why don't we go into one of the conference rooms," Stottlemeyer said. "We can set it up as our headquarters for this case."

"Right," Bobby said. "Where should we put our luggage?" He motioned to the two small rolling suitcases that he and Eames had with them.

"Disher, take those to my office," the captain said. "Do you guys have a hotel?"

Bobby looked to Alex. Alex looked back at him and shrugged.

"While you're at it, Disher," Stottlemeyer called after him, "Get these guys a hotel somewhere nearby." He turned back to them. "Now, to the business at hand…I've had the pictures and specifics of each case set up in Conference Room B."

They followed him. On a wall in the room, the pictures and information were tacked in a timeline fashion.

Bobby and Alex went over the new information for the Marsha Fleck case.

"The…earrings," Bobby said immediately.

"Yes," Monk said. "They're both wearing the same kind."

"Those are really in vogue right now," Alex said.

"Yeah, we've established that." Stottlemeyer was surprised at Monk's cold manner. Could there be a bit of a jealous side to Adrian Monk?

Bobby sensed it too. He didn't know much about this former SFPD detective, but he knew enough to tell him that this guy was a germphobe, probably OCD, and used to having his own way about things. He had seen how quickly that Natalie woman had jumped to his aid…Goren thought to himself some more as he stared at a picture on the wall—one of the Feld crime scene. He un-tacked it from the wall and looked at it closer.

Alex watched her partner, instead of looking at photos. She knew he was thinking not of the photo he held in his hands but of this Monk guy. She watched Bobby replace the photo. He tacked it back up slightly off kilter. Just enough to be noticeably off-balance. She tried to prevent the smile that was creeping onto her face. She expected this kind of behavior from herself, or Logan. But from _Bobby _of all peopleWhat exactly was her partner doing?

Monk looked at the picture Bobby had just put back up, and he twitched. He tried to hold himself back, but he couldn't help it. Bobby watched Adrian Monk as he took the tack out of the photo, straightened it, and re-tacked it. Then he took the crumpled Kleenex from his hand and wiped a smudge from the photo.

Disher bumbled back into the room just then.

"I called all the area hotels and motels," he said. "They're all booked. Apparently there's some convention going on…"

"I'd invite you to stay at my house," the captain said, "But we're having it repainted…staying with my sister-in-law, unfortunately."

"I only have a one-room apartment," Randy said, clearly disappointed he wouldn't be able to host the out-of-towners.

"Gee…that's too bad," Monk said.

Stottlemeyer coughed. When Monk said nothing, the captain made the offer himself.

"I was thinking they could stay with you, Monk…"

Monk gave the captain a startled look. "But-I…they…it…"

"We're very clean, I promise," Alex said.

"I…I…umm…okay…"


	3. Mr Monk Doesnt Play Well With Others

**_A/N: There will be a greater focus on Monk and his thoughts toward the MCS people in following chapters. Please read and review. Thanks!_**

**Chapter 3:**

**Mr. Monk Doesn't Play Well With Others **

"So…the earrings," Bobby Goren frowned. "Other than the fact that both women were renowned Broadway actresses, the earrings are our only link."

"We can get the photo of the earrings to a jeweler tomorrow," Leland Stottlemeyer said. "They can tell us who made them, we can get sales receipts."

Adrian Monk nodded. "Good…good…" He twitched a little, thinking about the fact that he was going to have houseguests.

"I…I'll be right back," Bobby said. "I have to use the restroom."

"Out the way you came in, and to the left," Randy Disher said.

Bobby nodded a thanks, and went out the door.

Natalie Teeger was in the middle of the squad room, making a fresh pot of coffee. Bobby looked a little lost.

"You alright there, Detective Goren?" she asked him.

Bobby blinked, as if coming out of a thought. "Oh…yeah…I was just…on my way to the rest room."

"It's right around the corner." Natalie pointed.

He nodded, looking at her still but seeing her for the first time since he'd been standing there.

"Sorry," he said. "The case…these things get stuck in my head."

She nodded. "You and Mr. Monk will work well together, I think."

He smiled. "What exactly do you do…for…Mr. Monk?"

"Oh, you know…fetch his Kleenex, make sure he doesn't fall into mud puddles, drive him around." She smiled. "It's like having another kid, really."

"You've got a child?"

"Yeah, my 12-year old, Julie," Natalie said.

"How long have you worked for Adrian Monk?"

"Over a year now…It…started as an in-between job and just sort of…stuck."

"Is it what you _want_ to be doing?"

"It's…not ideal…but I like to think I'm kind of like the missing ear in a Van Gogh self-portrait...he might be an interesting study without it, but damned if he can function properly."

Bobby smiled. "Or perhaps you could be compared to a pearl earring in a Vermeer portrait…"

She looked at him, waiting for him to go on.

He continued, "It's technically not the main part of the portrait, but it certainly draws attention for its…luster."

She returned his smile, intrigued that he'd just managed to flirt while talking about Johannes Vermeer.

"Personally, I prefer _View of Delft _to _Girl With a Pearl Earring,"_ Natalie said. "I mean, I know that it's less popular than the mysterious girl with the earring but…there's something serene about the water, a little mystery in the town behind it…it just…" She stopped, mid-thought, realizing herself, and laughed embarrassedly. "I-I was an art history major…"

He had been listening intently the whole time and now nodded. "Where at?"

"UCLA," Natalie said.

"That must have been fun," Bobby said.

"It...it was…I had to drop out but..."

Before they could continue, they were interrupted by Eames, Monk, Stottlemeyer and Disher, coming from the conference room.

"There you are," Alex said to Bobby. "We thought you got flushed down the toilet or something."

"Oh…the bathroom…" Bobby had completely forgotten his reason for leaving the conference room in the first place.

"Don't worry, you didn't miss anything," Stottlemeyer said. "We're gonna call it a night actually."

"Oh, okay," Bobby said.

"Why don't you come with Mr. Monk and I?" Natalie said to the MCS detectives. "I drive him to and from work, and since you'll be staying at his place…"

"Great," Alex said.

They retrieved their suitcases and loaded them into Natalie's car. They were going through the hilly streets of San Francisco, Alex sitting in the front with Natalie and the men sitting in the back.

"So yours doesn't drive either?" Alex asked Natalie with a smile.

Natalie laughed. "No…Mr. Monk's…condition…doesn't really allow him…" She drifted, then thought of something. "So…Detective Goren doesn't drive?"

"I could drive in a life or death situation," Bobby said from the back, just loud enough to be heard.

"I…would just…die," Monk said.

XXX

They reached the street where Monk lived, said goodbye to Natalie and went up to the tidy apartment.

Perhaps 'tidy' was an understatement.

"Please…take off your shoes," Monk said at the front door. The detectives obliged. "You can put them on the shoe mat," he said, pointing to a mat just inside the door.

"Oh…and…your suitcases…don't roll them on the floor…if you could just…carry them by their handles." He paused, nervously looking around. "Oh…and please don't touch the walls…smudge marks…"

Alex, not in Adrian's line of vision, was openly grinning, and stifling the urge to ask if breathing was allowed. Bobby was not facing his partner, but he just _knew _that she was smiling outwardly as he was inwardly.

"You can take your things to the guest bedroom," Monk said. "I'll show you where it is."

They followed him down the hallway to the guest bedroom, another neat, white-walled room with a double bed.

"You can just…" Monk motioned for them to put their suitcases by the closet.

"Let me just get a few things out of my suitcase," Bobby told Alex, "And I'll be out of your way. I'll take the couch."

Alex nodded, "Thanks."

"The-the couch?" Monk repeated.

"Well…where else…" Bobby frowned.

"You…you can't sleep on the couch, it doesn't come out," Monk said.

"That's okay," Bobby said. "I can sleep on the couch itself."

"I…I'm sorry…it would…you're not…" Monk struggled with the words.

"I'm not…?" Bobby asked, knowing what he was going to say, but wanting him to hear how ridiculous he sounded.

"You've been on an airplane…across the country," Monk said. "Who knows what airborne diseases…or dirt…you've picked up…the couch is a very nice pale eggshell, I don't think that would be good for it…"

"There's only one bed," Bobby said, exasperated. He looked at Alex.

She looked back at her partner and shrugged. "I can handle it if you can."

This really was not what he wanted to be doing. Sleeping in the same bed as his partner…it wasn't like they were romantically involved (or were inclined to be so) but still…but what choice did he have? Other than sleeping on the floor…which would kick up his occasional back pain (old Army injury)…

"Okay, fine," Bobby finally said to Alex. "As long as you don't mind possibly contracting airborne diseases…God only knows what I managed to pick up sitting next to that nun on the plane…"


	4. Mr Goren Learns a Lesson

**_A/N: Sorry this took so long to get up…not as fast as I used to be…hehe…Please continue to read and review. Thanks!_**

**Chapter 4:**

**Mr. Goren Learns a Lesson**

Bobby Goren woke up with a throbbing ache in his jaw and a sharp pain in his right eye. The light streaming in through the window told him it was morning but he had hardly slept the night before. Yes, it had to do with the fact that Alex Eames was sleeping next to him, but no, no, and _no _it was _not _for reasons one might think.

The truth of the matter was, they'd just said "goodnight" to each other and had gone to sleep. Well, Alex had. Bobby, on the other hand, was lying awake thinking over the Broadway murders. He'd been falling asleep when Alex started softly snoring. He was able to get past that, but then, just as his eyes began to droop once more, she delivered a swift kick to his jaw. He didn't know how the hell she managed to do it, or what she must have been dreaming about, but it was followed by another kick to the same spot and then, a bit later, a kick to the eye. He nearly cried out, but then remembered that he was in San Francisco in the apartment of the fastidious Adrian Monk. So instead, he gritted his teeth together and tried to sleep.

Alex rose just then, a smile on her face. She sat up, stretched and looked over. She'd nearly forgotten that Bobby was lying next to her.

"What the hell happened to your face?" Alex asked.

"Your foot," Bobby muttered.

XXX

Adrian Monk had been up for a couple of hours. He had cleaned his floor, where the detectives from New York had slightly scuffed it the night before. He had also steam cleaned the carpet. He had noticed that Bobby Goren's big feet, though rid of shoes as Adrian had asked, were large and slightly malodorous. He was certain the smell was still in the carpet, so he'd gotten up extra-early to clean. His phone rang just then, startling him.

"H-hello," he answered.

"Monk, I need you, Goren and Eames at the station house," Stottlemeyer ordered. "I've got a list of people and places for you all to cover. Disher's gonna go with you guys too. We need to get on this case before our guy strikes again."

"Oh-okay. I-I don't think they're even awake yet, but…we-we'll be there as soon as they're ready."

Monk knocked lightly on the door to the guest bedroom.

"H-Hello?"

There was no answer.

He opened the door. "Rise and—ahhh—I-I-I…"

He stood, embarrassed, but with his eyes still glued awkwardly on Alex, who was in the middle of dressing for the day and stood wearing only a bra and her slacks.

"I-didn't mean to—I'm sorry—I-I-I…"

Alex blinked. What the…why wasn't this moron leaving? She grabbed her shirt and held it to her chest. She wasn't sure whether to be offended or amused. Clearly Adrian Monk was aghast (though she didn't think she looked _that _bad).

Monk closed his eyes and reached blindly for the doorknob, for a way out. He stumbled out into the hallway, running directly into the wall. Well, he thought it was the wall. Then he looked up and realized it was Bobby Goren.

"You…okay?" Goren looked at him inquisitively.

"I-I-I…"

"See a ghost?"

"I-I-I…"

XXX

They had been standing on the sidewalk near the late Marsha Fleck's apartment for almost an hour, waiting for the super to come with the key. For once, San Francisco was not mired in fog, and Bobby felt himself loathing the shining sun, which was beating down upon them with surprising intensity, and causing his eye (now a nice purple shade) to throb even more. Of course he'd left his sunglasses in the squad car back in Manhattan.

Monk checked his watch. The super was way over due. He could tell the New York detectives were getting restless. He was sure they were used to running around chasing dangerous criminals all day, so it didn't surprise him a moment later when he saw Bobby Goren bust open the door to Marsha Fleck's apartment.

"What-what are you doing?"

"Going in," Bobby shrugged.

"We-we should really wait for the super," Monk said nervously.

Bobby ignored him, going in, wishing Eames, who was back at the station house making phone calls with Disher, was with him.

"Are you going to go in after him?" Natalie asked.

"Stottlemeyer said to wait for the super," Monk said. "I'm waiting for the super."

"Right," Natalie said. "And it's a billion degrees out here. I'm going to go in and see if Detective Goren needs help."

"But-but…" Monk tried to protest as she went into the apartment. He was left by himself out in the hot sun. It wasn't fair. Natalie was supposed to help _him. _

XXX

At the station house, Eames and Disher had been making phone calls, trying to find family members of Marsha Fleck's to no avail.

"Her driver's license did say Marsha Fleck," Alex frowned. "As did her social security card…"

"She could have changed her name," Randy said. "Lots of actresses do it."

"You'd think if she changed her name she would pick something better than Marsha Fleck," Alex said.

Randy smiled at her, a little surprised at her sarcasm, but liking it all the same.

"Okay," he said. "If you're such an expert…what would you choose? If you had to change your name, I mean?"

"I did change my name," Alex said. "When I went on the lam…then I joined the police force to really trip up the authorities…"

Randy stared at her.

"I'm kidding, Disher," she snorted. This guy was kind of adorable.

"Okay…then what would you pick?" Randy persisted.

She thought for a moment. "Kathryn…I always liked that name…with maybe something Italian-sounding for a last name…"

"Kathryn," Randy nodded. "They could call you Katy."

She smiled. "What about you?"

He was much quicker with his answer.

"Edmund Covington the Third," he grinned.

Eames' phone rang at that moment, interrupting them.

"Eames," she answered.

"I found some documents," Bobby said. He sounded a little weird, out of it.

"Bobby what's going on?" Alex asked.

"I'm in Marsha Fleck's apartment," Bobby said.

"Oh good, the super finally arrived?" Alex asked.

"Well, no so I just went in," Bobby said.

"_What?" _This was not like Bobby Goren, not like him at all. "Bobby what do you mean you just went in? Without a warrant? Without the super there…"

"My head hurts," Bobby said, sounding like a little kid. "But I found a note from this guy who was soliciting her to be her agent. It sounds pretty forceful. Apparently she turned him down in the past."

Alex sighed, the palm of her hand going to her forehead. "Bobby, go outside. Now. Before you find any more incriminating evidence that we can't use."

XXX

"You mean to tell me that you just waltzed in there without a warrant or the super?" Stottlemeyer couldn't believe it. Marsha Fleck had not owned the apartment. She hadn't been killed in the apartment. They'd needed permission, and they'd had it, so long as the super was overseeing the search.

"I-I…"

Stottlemeyer was getting angrier. This man was just as bad as Adrian, with his stutterings and nervous twitching, and the squinting.

"I don't know how you do things over in New York, Detective," the captain continued, "But here in San Francisco we wait till we have proper permission to go search places, and we listen to instructions when they're given and we sure as hell don't make it our business to get potentially vital information _thrown out of court!"_

"Captain," Monk called from Disher's desk. "Captain, Disher, look at this."

The captain, Randy and Alex went over to Monk, while the chastened Goren stayed silent, clenching his jaw in frustration.

"I got these files," Monk said, "_After _the super arrived. They were in Marsha Fleck's personal stuff. According to this playbill, from one of her early plays, a community theatre deal, she's originally from Staten Island."

"And?" the captain asked.

And…the answer clicked in Bobby's aching head. He knew it! He knew! Pick me!

"And, that's also where Diana Vale is originally from," Adrian finished, before Bobby could voice anything.

"Well, well," the captain smirked. "Good job Monk. That's called doing things the right way."

"My judgment was impaired," Bobby spoke up suddenly.

"Excuse me?" Stottlemeyer turned to him.

"It was a mistake, an honest one, and I hardly think it's your place to make judgments about the entire New York City Police Department based on one incident involving one officer," Bobby said.

Stottlemeyer rolled his eyes. "You screwed up my case, Goren. I don't blame NYPD. I blame you."

A timid junior officer came up to the captain just then, tapping him on the back.

"_What!" _ Stottlemeyer's mood was going from bad to worse.

"Sir you have a phone call," the officer said, "From NYPD. There's been…another incident back there. The lead from _Phantom of the Opera._"


	5. Road Trip

_**A/N: Phew! I'm back on a roll of sorts…here is the next part…enjoy and please read and review! Also: all ships are lighthearted…don't go all vulture on me.**_

**Chapter 5:**

**Road Trip**

Bobby listened intently to Jim Deakins. He had insisted on talking to his captain after Stottlemeyer had finished. He wanted the information firsthand. He would be the lead once they were back in New York and he was tired of looking like an idiot in front of Leland Stottlemeyer.

"Victim's name is Kyle Steele," Deakins told him. "He was playing the Phantom in a matinee. Same deal as the women. No one saw anyone who shouldn't have been there. Unlike Diana Vale, however, Kyle Steele was well-liked. What did you find out about Marsha Fleck?"

"Not too much," Bobby said. "We don't even know her real name. None of her family has come forward, if she has any. These are high-profile cases, it's been all over the news. They've gotta know by now."

"We need to find a common link when you get here," Deakins said. "We're keeping the crime scene preserved for you. It's gonna cost the theatre, but when they heard that you were the one heading the case…Bobby are you okay?" The captain had sensed something was wrong. He'd heard the poorly concealed annoyance in Stottlemeyer's voice, and there was something lacking in Bobby's.

"Just…tired," Bobby said. "They made me sleep with Eames."

"What?""

"Never mind…" He sighed. "It's gotta be the same person, Captain. Jetting across the country, going in without being noticed. He's confident, unafraid."

"He?" Deakins asked.

"It has to be a man. I saw Kyle Steele in a one-act play off-Broadway a few years ago, before he got famous. He was as tall as I am and muscular. Whoever did this had to be able to exert physical control over Kyle in order to get him with the needle."

XXX

"What do you mean SFO has no outbound available flights to New York City?" Disher cried to the airline representative. "Look, this is a matter of national security. These Broadway stars are dropping like flies." He shook his head at Alex who was standing near his desk. "National holiday weekend? Since when is…" He glanced at his desk calendar. "Labor Day….since when is Labor Day a huge traveling holiday?"

Alex tried not to laugh.

A few minutes later, Randy hung up in dismay. "They said to call LAX," he said.

"Isn't LA kind of south of here?" Alex said sarcastically.

"We can drive there," Randy said. "There are these things called cars. I know you New Yorkers aren't too keen on them, but they do actually, uh, get you places."

A day of hanging out with Alex Eames and Randy Disher was getting pretty good at the sarcasm and general snarkiness.

"Wait…we have…to go in a plane?" Adrian Monk, who was sitting listening to the whole thing, finally spoke up. "A commercial airplane?"

"Well what'd you expect, Monk?" Stottlemeyer asked.

"A private, SFPD-owned jet?" Monk asked.

The captain laughed.

"What do you think we are, some TV crime show owned by NBC Universal?"

"There's…a 10pm flight available," Bobby, who was looking up flight information on the computer, said.

Disher checked his watch. "It's 2:00…if we leave soon, we can get there in time to check in and everything."

"We'd get to La Guardia in the early morning, around 6am," Bobby said.

"Disher, get a rental car, buy the tickets," Stottlemeyer ordered. "Five tickets. It looks like you and Monk and Natalie are going to accompany Goren and Eames back to Manhattan."

XXX

"I'll drive," Natalie volunteered. The five were gathered with their luggage in the Hertz parking lot, next to the black SUV that Disher had rented. "I used to visit my aunt in LA all the time. I know all the shortcuts."

They put their things in the trunk and then they went to get in the car. Monk and Goren both reached for the front passenger side door at the same time.

"I-I don't do well…in backseats," Monk said. "I'm a bit claustrophobic."

"Well I get car sick if I sit in the back," Goren said.

"Come on, Mr. Monk," Natalie said. "It's not like Randy and Alex are large people who are gonna crowd your personal space. Besides you don't want Detective Goren to blow chunks all over the car do you?"

Monk shuddered at the phrase "blow chunks." Ick. "Okay," he said. "Just don't put me in the middle."

XXX

They had been on the road for awhile—Natalie driving and Bobby in the passenger seat, Monk, Disher and Alex in the back in that order.

"Have you been to California before, Detective Goren?" Natalie asked, looking his way as she stopped at a red light.

"You…can call me Bobby," he said, giving her a smile. "And yes, I've been to California…when I was in the Army. Have you ever been to New York?"

"Oh, no," Natalie said. "I know this is for a case, and that I'm supposed to be helping Mr. Monk but I really hope I can see a few sights somewhere in between you all catching the bad guy…"

"We'll have to squeeze something in," Bobby said. "You'd love the Met."

Their conversation wandered to art again, and they were off in their own little world.

Meanwhile, in the backseat, Randy was regaling Alex with tales from his work on the San Francisco Police force.

"I-I'm sure it's nothing to what you've seen on the Major Case Squad," he said.

She was caught off-guard by the adorable look on his face. He kept doing that. He was so…different…innocent. She was glad he hadn't seen what she'd seen at Major Case, or she may have been looking at a different type of man.

"So…you like the theatre?" he asked. "Maybe that's a bad question to ask…given our case."

"Well, normally I like going to see Broadway shows," Alex smiled. "But I'm not sure I'd wanna go see a play these days."

"Who knew being an actor could be dangerous," Randy said.

"Yeah, really," Alex said. "And they thought the only thing they had to worry about was a Botox foul-up."

He immediately laughed heartily at her joke, and a thought came to her mind. _Alex, he's definitely younger than you. And not your usual type. And you're working a case with him for Pete's sake. _ Then her mind went briefly to her friend Olivia Benson in Special Victims Unit, and she nearly giggled out loud. No, she definitely wouldn't mind being Benson to this guy's Cassidy…

Three hours later, Randy Disher, his attention momentarily off of Alex Eames, looked out the window and noticed they were way off course.

"Natalie, where in the world are we?" he asked.

"I…we're…we're fine," she said. "I got a little lost…" The truth was, she'd been paying more attention to Bobby Goren than to the road, and had taken a wrong turn where she'd thought the shortcut was. "It…it's a shortcut?"

"A shortcut?"

"Well…it used to be…"

With a little backseat driving from Randy, they were soon back on track to getting to the airport. They'd finally gotten to the outskirts of Los Angeles, and of course, were now stuck in a sea of traffic.

"So this is LA," Bobby said, looking out the window at the hazy, polluted sky and the cars that seemed to go on forever, honking and starting then stopping, some turning off their engines all together.

"So glamorous, I know," Natalie smiled as she stopped the car yet _again. _

"What's…what's going on up there?" Monk asked.

Natalie, thinking he was referring to her and Goren, quickly focused back on the road. "What was that?" she asked.

"Up ahead," Monk said. "Two cars in front of us…that guy is getting out of his car. He's…he's…I can't tell from back here."

"He's pulling out a gun," Natalie said in alarm.

"Turn off the car," Disher ordered, boosted by Eames' gaze. "I'm as local law enforcement as there is out here right now." With that, he jumped out of the car, nearly taking his seatbelt with him. "Right," he muttered, unbuckling, _then _getting out. He ran up to where the man with the gun, now apparently threatening a passenger in another car, was.

From the SUV, they saw him approach the man cautiously, show them his badge. The man, larger than Disher and less good-hearted, shoved Randy hard, sending him tripping backward.

Alex undid her seat belt.

"Oh, hell no," she said, getting out of the car.

She ran over to where Disher and the gun man were.

"Randy, are you okay?" she asked.

"I-I'm fine," he said, catching his breath.

"You," she said angrily to the gun man.

"Bitch, who do you think you are?" the man said.

"NYPD," Alex said. "And you're under arrest for assault on a police officer, as well as brandishing a weapon in public. And for reckless driving. Hands on the car, now."

"You can't tell me what to do," the man said, "You ain't no LAPD."

Before he knew what was happening, the petite Alex Eames had his hand twisted around his back, had kneed him in the back and had his face in the pavement.

"Who's the bitch now?" she asked icily. To Randy she said, "Call for the highway patrol."

Randy stood in awe. This woman…was amazing.

By the time they got to the airport, it was 9:15pm, leaving them with only 45 minutes to check in and get through security. Fortunately, after the nearest CHP had arrested the gun man, he proceeded to call them a police escort to the airport and now they were being escorted past the security lines and straight to their gate where boarding had just begun.

Randy handed out the tickets. He had it all planned. He had picked out the seats online. Bobby and Natalie were sitting together in the window and middle seat of Aisle 14. He would be sitting next to Alex (he had to admit purposely planning that) in the corresponding window and middle seats in Aisle 15. And since Monk could only sit in an aisle seat, and because the only one left was next to Disher, Monk would be joining him and Alex. He only hoped Monk didn't act all…Monk-ish.

They'd been in the air for nearly two hours. The plane ride was going similarly to the car ride. Goren and Natalie had moved from art talk to books and movies. And Randy, a bit embarrassed by his fumbling earlier with the gun man, was trying to look smooth for Alex. Of course, the harder he tried, the less smooth he looked, but Alex found it endearing.

"Do you need anything, sir?" the flight attendant asked Bobby.

"No, thanks," Bobby said. "Natalie do you…" He realized that Natalie was now asleep. "We're fine, thanks," he told the flight attendant.

A moment later, Natalie unconsciously leaned in toward Bobby and rested her head on his shoulder. He smiled ever-so-slightly. She was a nice woman and he liked having her in such a close vicinity.

In the next aisle, Alex was also getting sleepy.

"Good job today, by the way," Randy told her, "With that guy on the freeway. That took a lot of balls…I mean…"

She smiled sleepily. "I know what you mean. Thanks."

And then, without thinking, Randy leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips.

She looked slightly surprised.

"I-I'm sorry that was…" Randy was mentally kicking himself.

She glanced to Monk, whose eyes were covered with a ridiculous sleep mask. Then, quickly, she tilted her head up to Randy's and pecked him on the cheek.

The two of them, as well as Bobby, fell asleep soon after. Their day had been long and tiresome. They all woke up several hours later, to the sound of the friendly flight attendant.

"Good morning, ladies and gentleman, and welcome to New York City."


End file.
